


Halloween at Stark Tower

by justakidfromhellskitchen



Category: Marvel
Genre: Alternate Canon, F/M, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, M/M, Secret Identity, Stark Tower, Superhusbands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 09:37:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2063148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justakidfromhellskitchen/pseuds/justakidfromhellskitchen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This piece is dedicated to Tumblr user chrisvvans. I hope the fluff measures to your expectations! :) </p><p>A big thank you to DeathValleyQueen for helping me with the prompt!</p>
    </blockquote>





	Halloween at Stark Tower

**Author's Note:**

> This piece is dedicated to Tumblr user chrisvvans. I hope the fluff measures to your expectations! :) 
> 
> A big thank you to DeathValleyQueen for helping me with the prompt!

There is a reason Steve Rogers does not do parties. There are always too many people, loud music, and no place to actually sit and talk with somebody. Which, in Steve’s mind, defeats the purpose of a get-together in general. He simply cannot wrap his mind around the appeal.

But tonight, All Hallow’s Eve, Steve’s been dragged to a Halloween party at Stark Tower by Natasha who firmly believes Steve’s social and love life need a boost. Steve tends to disagree. But secretly, he has been excited about the party just because he gets to dress up as someone other than Captain America for once. The mantel is not a burden tonight.

He will not lie: Stark Tower is impressive. The lights shift from a golden hue to a bloody color and then back to black (is that even possible?) while mechanical bats flutter lazily below the ceiling. Unlike the usual cheap decors, though, these bats seem to be flying on their own rather than hanging limply from strings. There is a table full of cupcakes, chocolates, and finger foods. The scent of caramel and pumpkin spice have filled the whole space, strong yet not invasive. There is a whirl of colors and masks on the dance floor, carefree laughter.

“Close your mouth, Rogers,” Natasha quips. “You're drooling.”

“Can you blame me?”

Natasha shrugs an elegant, bare shoulder. Her costume is, aptly, Jessica Rabbit’s, which Steve has to admit is definitely working for her. Her scarlet, strapless gown has already caught the attention of several men in their immediate vicinity. Their eyes have become glued to the slit in her dress which opens at one hip and displays a fair amount of leg. She gives one of the men her signature smirk, before turning to Steve, suggestively, and cocking her hip at an exaggerated angle just as Jessica Rabbit would.

“Am I gonna have to babysit you all night,” Natasha says, tossing a wave of crimson hair over her shoulder, “or can you go and actually make some friends?”

Steve reaches behind his neck, mostly out of habit. “I’ll manage,” he says, “I’m ninety-five, not socially inept.”

Quirking a perfectly made brow, Natasha shrugs again and then walks off in the direction of the dance floor. Steve watches her accepting a flute of champagne and sighs. He wishes his metabolism would allow the effect of alcohol in his system.

Steve scans the crowd, realizes he would not know anybody in Stark’s circle, and opts for the food table instead. Always a safe bet.

“Love the suit,” comes a familiar voice just as Steve is stacking a paper plate with a variety of cheeses with names he has never heard. He looks up and is startled to see Tony Stark in a superb imitation of his own Captain America suit.

“Mr. Stark,” he says politely. “I didn't actually expect you to be here tonight.”

“Sometimes I show up to my own parties,” Stark says with an easy grin, “just to change things up. And you can call me Tony.”

Steve has met Stark only a handful of times for Avengers board meetings and tactical planning. He doesn't know much about him other than the fact that the Iron Man suit is designed and paid for by him and that his business is keeping the Avengers alive, now that SHIELD is gone. Besides his own impression, Steve has heard a myriad of rumors about Stark’s alleged drinking problem, his commitment issues, and the excessive gambling.

But Steve is not egged on by rumors. The guy has never given him a reason for dislike, and Steve never trusts gossip anyway.

“Tony,” Steve says, uneasily but with a smile. “Nice suit.”

Stark holds up his shield, grinning still. “Do you approve, Cap?”

“You wear it well.”

“He--that is you--used to be my favorite when I was little.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I still have all the collecting cards from way back in the day. Somewhere. Only thing Dad really approved of.”

“You and former Agent Coulson could start a club,” Steve says, though not unkindly. It warms his heart to imagine a small Tony Stark with a tiny shield and a Captain America costume around Halloween. “But your dad, he was a good man.”

Tony’s mouth twitches under the mask, and abruptly, he changes the subject. “I like your choice in costume, too, but then again, I’m vain enough like that.” He winks at Steve. “You’re even wearing it better than Iron Man himself would.”

Steve feels his face growing hot and wishes he had a full mask for his costume to hide his blush. He gives Tony an almost shy smile, unsure of what to say to that. Instead, he finishes piling his plate.

“Why Iron Man?” Stark asks, nibbling at the corner of an odd-colored cheese before making a face.

“I like him,” Steve says, honestly. “We might not have gotten along very well at first, but I work well with him. We’re a good team.” Steve pauses. “And I am honestly sad I can’t get to know him in person.”

“How come?”

Steve considers the question carefully, weighing his words. “He could use a friend.”

Tony leads the way out to the expansive balcony, and the noise of the party becomes muffled behind the glass. New York City breathes, crawls, and lives underneath their feet. Steve feels a euphoric sense of belonging, which is strange, considering he’s at a place he has never been before.

Tony invites him to sit on one of the plush seats. Steve accepts. They take in the vast skyline together, snacking on their food, and Steve realizes he’s curious to know what is on Tony’s mind.

“What if you could?”

Steve blinks. “What?”

“What if you could meet him?” Tony clarifies, “Iron Man, I mean. In person.”

“He says knowledge of his identity will put everyone in danger.”

“You're not wrong.”

“So why would he tell me?”

Tony brandishes a forked cherry tomato. “Uh, you’re Captain Freaking America?”

Steve is not convinced. “Why tell me now?”

“He’s been...” Tony pauses, then he reaches to take off his Captain America helmet. His hair is mussed underneath, sticking up in every direction, and Steve has to swallow the urge to reach over and straighten his hair. “He’s been wanting to tell you, but he’s afraid.”

“Of me talking?”

“No,” Tony says quickly. “No. It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

Tony moves closer. Steve can see the muscle in Tony’s jawline tensing. A part of him notes the attractiveness of it. “He has feelings for you.”

Steve has been expecting almost any answer except for this. “Feelings?” he echoes, blankly.

“Yeah.”

Iron Man, the person he’s been working with for years, has feelings for him? He’s sure this is a joke or maybe, more realistically, a plea for help.

“He’s lonely,” Steve observes, “isn’t he? It can’t be easy not letting anybody who he is or what he does.”

“Yeah, but that isn't the reason--”

“No, I know. I know. I think, though, loneliness is what we both have in common. Each in our own way, but I understand him. And I've alway thought he’s too proud to understand that, but...” Steve looks at Tony. “Feelings for me? Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Did he tell you as much?”

Tony hesitates. “Yes.”

Steve’s heart has revved up in his chest. Give Steve Rogers monsters to fight any day, but when it comes to his feelings, he is a raw mess. He tries not to show it. He is Captain America, even when he is in an Iron Man suit. The responsibility, the guilt, the commitment--it can never leave him.

“I’d like to talk to him,” Steve decides. “Is he here tonight?”

“He is.”

“Do you mind telling him...”

“Wait here a sec.”

Tony leaves Steve alone with a jumble of feelings, head buzzing with too many thoughts. Flattered? Anxious? Curious? Surprised?

Before he can untangle the threads of his emotions from one another, though, Steve hears a familiar droning of the flight stabilizer, and sure enough, the gold-and-crimson metallic suit materializes from below the Stark Tower, hovering a few feet before him.

“Captain Rogers,” Iron Man says. “Nice costume.”

“Thanks,” says Steve with a sheepish smile.

“I was thinking we could take a little ride.”

Before Steve can answer, his feet are dangling off the ground and he is flying through the velvet black night. The wind whistles past Steve’s ear, chilled to the point of being damp, and the sense of being in the right place at the right time increases. Steve has no idea where Iron Man is taking them, but he can guess that the prying eyes of the press is the reason for this sudden departure.

After a few minutes, Iron Man deposits Steve on top of the New York Times tower. The irony is not lost on Steve. The exhilarating experience of flying and the pleasant turn of his evening has Steve whooping on top of his lungs, literally, from the rooftop.

“Thanks for the ride,” Steve says as he sobers.

“I thought we should try somewhere more private.” The armor’s mask always has the same expression, but Steve thinks, maybe from the man’s tone, that there is a degree of nervousness.

“Yeah, Mr. Stark said I could meet you.” Steve gestures at him. “The real you.”

The crisp autumn wind dances around them as a silence stretches before them. Steve waits with patience, knowing this is not a conversation to rush.

A metal hand reaches to the Iron Man helmet, presses a button. There is a hiss of air, and Steve holds his breath. The suit continues to disassemble itself, pieces of metal falling away with loud thunks onto the roof, until Tony Stark emerges like a phoenix from flames. He is still wearing his Captain America costume.

Their gazes meet and linger. Steve’s mouth is dry. “Tony,” he says quietly, and this time, there is no discomfort in his voice when he says the name this time. He steps closer, reaching for the man who has saved his life more times than he can count. He grips Tony’s shoulder, which is solid and warm and very much real. He acknowledges that there has always been a distant fear of a hollow armor.

“You’re not running away,” Tony says with a pale smile, “so I’m guessing this is okay?”

In reply, Steve secures his hand behind Tony’s neck and closes the space between them for a kiss. He gets a response, neither shy nor hesitant but full of warmth and urgency. They lose themselves in each other, and for a moment, there is no world outside of their two entangled bodies.

When they resurface for air, neither is willing to part.

“Holy shit,” Tony whispers. “Captain America just kissed me.”

Steve chuckles. “I can do it again, you know. All you have to do is ask.”

“Um, can we kiss at your place? I am freezing my butt off.”

“Trying to get in my pants, Stark? Already?”

“No! Seriously, I mean, okay, if you insist, but unlike you, I can actually feel human temperatures and don’t have super muscles to protect me from the cold.”

A soft snort. “Okay, fine, my place. Yours seems a little occupied right now anyway.” And, Steve doesn't say, he has no intentions of letting Tony go anywhere else tonight anyway. “Let me just text my ride?”

 

* * *

 

Natasha’s phone chimes melodically. She extracts it from her purse, reads the message, and smiles a secret smile.

“Did it work?” Clint asks.

Natasha’s smile turns into a conspiratorial smirk. “Mission accomplished.”


End file.
